


Red, White, and BLU

by Lightspeed



Series: Monstrous Intent [38]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bad Parenting, Comfort, Daddy Issues, Djinni & Genies, Family Issues, Faun!Scout, Fauns & Satyrs, Garuda - Freeform, Groping, Gulags, Heavy's Terrified of Becoming his Father, Humor, Jotunn | Frost Giant, Large Cock, Large insertions, Like MASSIVE Cock, Lots of come, Loud Sex, M/M, Magic, Oral Sex, Overhearing Sex, Romance, Self-Doubt, Size Difference, Size Kink, Soviet Union, White Movement, djinni!Pyro, garuda!Medic, half-jotun!Heavy, jotun!Heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 02:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5440646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After months of research and assistance from Miss Pauling's resources, Medic has finally devised a spell to bring to the surface the more...monstrous part of Heavy's lineage.  It presents a bit of an anatomical challenge that the doctor is happy to attempt to conquer, but perhaps an even bigger emotional challenge to the newfound jotun, who upon seeing himself, imagines shades of his father, bringing up fear and guilt to the normally reserved giant.</p><p>(there is mention of violence and torture, but not graphically described, as part of Heavy's backstory)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red, White, and BLU

**Author's Note:**

> For historical reference, when Heavy refers to the Whites, he is referring to the White Movement, the counter-revolutionary movement that fought the Red Army (the communist Bolsheviks) in the Russian Civil War, had secret support within the Soviet Union, and maintained its numbers and overt existence outside of the Soviet Union for decades afterward.

“This is it, Archimedes! I have the components ready, the fire roaring, and the weave practiced. This is the spell I have been searching for,” Medic whispered in German, his voice full of giddy reverence as he gazed at the blazing bonfire Sniper was currently guarding. It occupied a pit ringed with rough mountain stones, snow slowly melting at its edges. In one hand, he held a distaff, a bundle of flax gathered at its end and tied with blue ribbon. In his other, he held a spellbook. It was a purple, fabric-bound tome on loan from Miss Pauling, an intermediate transmuter's specialty manual, and it housed the exact magics he'd been searching after.

“Why are you whispering, Vatti?” the little bird sitting on his shoulder asked, whispering back and ducking his head.

Medic blinked, made a face, then turned his head to look sidelong at the dove. “It...it seemed appropriate for the time. Archimedes, am I going to have to justify all of my theatrics to you now that you're able to criticize them in a language I speak?”

Archimedes' little head bobbed around, as if he were stalling, or pretending to be a normal bird. Finally he asked, turning his gaze to Sniper feeding the fire, “When is the next time we can have those fat green beans in the fuzzy pods? The ones the fox man gave us.”

“Edamame? You're extorting me!”

Archimedes ruffled his feathers, fluffing up against the cold. If a beak could smirk, it was smirking.

With a chuckle, Medic pet gently at his familiar's head. “You are an expert haggler, I am afraid. I will see if Spy can get some more that I can continue to spoil you with.”

“Thank you, Vatti,” Archimedes cooed, leaning into the doctor's finger happily.

“You are welcome, my little one. Now, if I am to cast this spell, I believe I am going to need its subject present. Let us go find Heavy.” Medic motioned to Sniper he'd be back in a moment and ducked into the base, stretching his back and wings after long hours hunched over his magical studies and then building the fire with his massive, feathered limbs wrapped closely around himself. Coldfront presented many strange adjustments for the whole team in the weeks since they'd been stationed there, but what it lacked in availability of outdoor activities above freezing temperatures, it made up for by encouraging more time spent in study and tinkering, even if it did mean the doctor was deprived his morning jogs with Scout. He would not miss the close quarters and drafts and idleness indoors, nor the ice, slush, and frigid winds outside, even if the weather did make for very cuddly nights in bed with his lovers.

After another series of stretches, trying to suppress his groans as he worked the kinks out of his back and shoulders, Medic headed further into the base, wondering where his partner had gotten off to.

 

*

 

Scout hummed in thought, his lips pursed into a confused pout. “I don't get it.”  
Pyro looked up from poking at the rec room fireplace, trying to coax the logs into a position less likely to smother the embers. “What don't you get?”

“You,” the faun expanded, stretching out on the couch, careful to keep himself tucked into the quilt he had cocooned himself inside of like a patchwork burrito with antlers. He worked a hand up under his chin and tugged the blanket away from his face to speak more easily. “You spent all this time here dressed in that suit. I mean, I get that. You didn't know who was human, who wasn't human, and who was chill with you not bein' human. I mean, my own Ma thought I was some kinda demon when I first showed her all this, and I'm frickin' adorable. Stands to reason, yanno, someone who ain't never seen a monster in person, or someone who don't think they're real, they might be all crosses an' holy water, screamin' 'EL DIABLO!' Or some shit.”

“Mmhmm,” the firebug hummed, wondering where this was going. Other than being aggravatingly accurate.

“Well, I mean, I guess I wanna know why you still do. On the field makes sense. Don't want the REDs gettin' all up in arms about more monsters on our team. Plus, yanno, it's probably some protection. An' probably a ton 'a other reasons. But why around base? Around just us, yanno? We know you ain't human. That got out pretty quick. But only you, Engie, and Spy get to know what you look like? Why keep it a secret anymore?”

Pyro sat back, setting the poker down against the hearth with a nod. He'd figured it would be Medic or Sniper who asked, but in all honesty, Scout was the one with the least tact. It made sense. He smiled.

“Honestly?” he began. He laid down on the floor and looked up at Scout through the lenses of his mask, making the faun peer over the side of the couch with curiosity. “It's kind of habit?”

“Habit?”

  
“I'm used to being in the suit. It's easier to explain away being a weird assumed burn victim in an asbestos suit than an ancient genderfluid person made of literal fire who just so happens to also have horns. Like you said. El Diablo, and all that. So it's kinda halfway me at this point,” the firebug shrugged, smiling beneath his filters as he let his eyes focus on the quiet, invisible lights of magic weaving and unraveling in the faun's fae presence, spreading colours only he could see in wild patterns that guttered in short flashes. The blue of his eyes danced like ancient alien oceans. “And it makes it easier to stay in one place when I get excited.”

“What'cha mean?”

“I get too excited and focused on something I can kinda...spread out. I can lose form, sometimes.”

“I heard Engie tell Snipes you kinda go all over 'im like lightin' 'im on sexy fire when you do it.”

“Sexy fire,” Pyro giggled, “yeah kinda like that.”

“That happen a lot?”

“The sex?”

“The spreadin'. I mean I figure the sex happens a lot. You two got a lotta lost time to make up for,” the faun chuckled.

“Not too often. Usually just during sex, but on the occasion it'll happen when I'm heated up in a fight or if I'm just really engrossed in something. It's why I tend to check out on the field so I don't get too invested in things.”

Scout snickered, ducking into the blanket for a moment and kicking a hoof against the arm of the couch.

“What's so funny?”

“ _Heated up_ in a fight! Pfffftahahaha!” the faun held back a snort, trying to control himself.

Pyro giggled at that, rolling onto his belly. “I didn't mean to!”

“Too late, you did it!”

“Darn!”

“That's one for the pun jar. We're gonna  have that kegger in no time with gems like that,” Scout teased.

“I'm still not as bad as Spy!” the djinni protested, slamming a fist against the floor.

“He bought the whole keg last time.”

Once their chuckles had died down and Scout had reemerged from the blanket, he asked, “So does that mean you're always gonna be hidin' away in that suit around base?”

Pyro folded his arms in front of himself and laid his chin atop one wrist. “I don't know. Maybe, maybe not. It's still kinda weird, everyone knowing. This place, this team, it's all kind of a special situation. It feels like home. I don't know how long it's been since I understood that feeling.”

“Well, I know Snipes wants a peek.”  
“He wants more than a peek.”

“When don't 'e?” Scout grinned. “But seriously though man, you be yourself. An' if that means creepin' up the curtains if you're gettin' intense on a colourin' book, then who gives a shit? After all the shit with me goin' into rut, I'm pretty sure we're all prepared to handle any kinda weirdness.”

  
“Thanks, Scout,” Pyro hummed, crossing his legs at the ankles and kicking them in the air behind him. “I dunno. Maybe I will. I need to figure it all out.”

“Well hurry up. I wanna see this pretty face I keep hearin' Engie talk about.”

Scout couldn't see it, but Pyro grinned at that.

With a noisy flutter, Archimedes swooped into the room, landing atop Scout's antler with a quiet coo.

“Oh, hey Archie. Where's the Doc?” the faun asked, looking up with his eyes.

“Right here,” Medic announced, following his familiar into the room with a ruffle of his own feathers. “Have either of you seen Heavy recently?”

“Not since breakfast,” Scout replied with a shrug, lifting a finger to his antler to beckon the dove to his hand. Archimedes hopped over, happy to be brought down to cuddle against Scout's chest. “Why, what's up?”

“I have something I need his help with.” The doctor's wings shifted, gently quaking with excitement.

“If you wanna get laid, Doc—”

“Nein, I actually do need his help. There is a spell I have been researching that I require his assistance in completing.” Medic rolled his eyes guiltily. “And then, maybe we will make love. But that is irrelevant at the moment.”

The other two mercenaries chuckled. Pyro sat up, crossing his legs under himself. “I think I saw him in the gym last.”

“I dunno how he can work out in this cold,” Scout shivered as he scratched at Archimedes' head. “I'm usin' all my energy just shiverin'.”

“Hey, at least you can't get frost-bitten toes anymore,” the firebug teased, reaching up to grab the faun's hoof through the blanket.

“Yeah, I s'pose that's an upside. And I save a lot on snow boots.” The mercenaries shared a laugh at that.

Medic approached the younger man in his quilt cocoon and smiled, laying a hand between his antlers and scratching gently through his hair. “Will you be sleeping in our bed tonight?”

“I ain't got any other plans.”

“Then we will be sure to keep you warm, Spatz,” the doctor grinned, reaching his hand down. Archimedes obediently hopped from Scout's grasp to Medic's gloved finger with a coo, and was placed back on his shoulder. “Until then!”

Pyro and Scout waved Medic off as he left, looking back to each other.

“So I know you said you don't make heat but if you got naked and climbed in the fireplace would it hurt?”

The djinni shrugged. “If the poker was still in there.”

 

*

 

Medic descended the stairs to the gym briskly, his wings flaring out as he skipped steps. Excitement bubbled just below his surface, and he was eager to find the giant and present him with the fruits of his success. The sounds of impacts thumped through the stairwell, muffled by the closed metal door to the large, open room that housed their fitness equipment.

Only Heavy would be comfortable enough with the relative frigidity of their current base to be able to venture far past sources of heat, let alone work out in such temperatures. Sometimes the doctor wondered if it was a symptom of his jotun lineage, or if Heavy was secretly an actual bear.

As the doctor slipped through the metal doors, he was careful to be sure they closed silently behind him. Archimedes took wing, fluttering up to the rafters as Medic wrapped his wings around himself for warmth. The gym was terribly drafty. Across the room, Heavy was working over a heavy punching bag. He made use of it frequently, a replacement for the one Scout had destroyed at 2fort having yet to arrive before they'd been reassigned. The boxer-cum-mercenary practiced his jabs with precise movements and controlled breaths, focused on his target and the burn of his muscles with each blow. He wore only a pair of sweat pants, his hands and wrists taped.

Thankful for the rubber-surfaced floor of the room, Medic carefully made his way over to the giant. He was no master of stealth, but Heavy was no twitchy cagey creature like many of their coworkers. When the doctor removed his gloves and set his warm, keratin-topped hands on the Russian's love-handles, the larger man simply relaxed and chuckled knowingly. He turned, a smile crossing his lips, and embraced Medic with a short kiss and a murmured greeting.

“Moy golubchik, how are you?”

“Mmm, far better now that I am in your arms, Schatz,” Medic cooed, nosing into the larger man's neck to press a kiss to his jaw. “I am sorry to interrupt your training, but are you terribly busy?”

“For you, Doktor? Nyet. This, I can come back to. It is best if I rest for while. Get glass of water, maybe. What do you need?”

“Well, I have made a breakthrough of sorts in mein arcane study, and I wanted your assistance in completing it,” the doctor gushed with a wide grin.

Heavy regarded his lover for a moment, pale blue eyes squinted in consideration. An arcane breakthrough could mean anything from figuring out how to stop using circles for casting, to learning a new spell, to accidentally turning someone into something else. Medic was often purposefully vague, which led to a habitual vagueness in general, which was dangerous when scrutinizing the doctor's motives.

He certainly kept Heavy on his toes.

“What help can I be?” he finally asked, returning their embrace to warmth and closeness.

“Come with me, and I will show you. Do not worry, this is no stretch beyond my skill, simply something new and wonderful I have been chasing the specifics of for some time!” Medic slipped from the giant's grasp and took hold of one wrapped wrist, tugging him along as he backpedaled toward the door.

Archimedes descended from his perch to hitch a ride on the giant's shoulder, bunting against his temple as Heavy let himself be led, not bothered to put up a fight when simply humouring the doctor would likely yield the best results. He found himself having difficulty saying no to the winged German and his giddy giggles.

When they arrived at the back door of the base, Heavy found himself more than a little concerned. “Doktor, we are going outside? In snow? I thought we go to infirmary.”

“Nein, mein Kuschelbär. For this spell, I have something a little different prepared. Certain magics are more readily performed with scientific methods. Others require...a bit more of a local flair.” The doctor opened the door and motioned for Heavy to venture forth. “This should not take too long, if you are willing to bear the discomfort of the cold for a short time. I know you are far more resilient in the face of such climates than a full-blooded human would be. Or myself, for that matter,” Medic shivered, his wings wrapping around himself and his fur-lined labcoat.

Heavy looked to his lover with trepidation. “Doktor, what is this about? Explain.”

With a warm, if energetic smile, Medic laid his ungloved hands on the giant's bare chest, letting his black-nailed fingertips dance through the fluffy hair that covered it. “Schatz, do you remember how a few months ago, we spoke of perhaps manipulating your monstrous attributes?”

Heavy was quiet. Medic was using large words. He always used large words when he was up to something, needed to be vague yet delicate, or both. Heavy was sure it was both. “Doktor. Small words.”

“I am sorry, mein Kuschelbär. What I mean to ask is: do you remember when I asked you if you wanted to...do more with your Jotun side? Perhaps show more of your bloodline?”

“What do you want to do?”

“With this spell I have been researching—with Miss Pauling's help, the sweet Fraulein—I would be able to transform you temporarily into a jotun. Fully-fledged, beautiful and terrible, forged of ice and stone, rather than the perfect marriage of jotun and human you already stand here as,” the doctor announced with a flourish, sweeping one arm out to gesture out the door to the blazing bonfire and the shivering human tending it. Sniper looked up upon being gestured at and nodded a silent greeting to the Russian, the entire lower half of his face covered in a scarf he had finished knitting earlier in the week.

“Temporarily?” Heavy asked, wary. Medic's transformation, however accidental, was not even slightly temporary.

“The spell's standard is a mere few minutes, but Miss Pauling has directed me toward a few components I can use to invest the spell with a longer duration. You should spend up to eight hours as a jotun, unless I purposely dismiss the spell sooner, of course.”

Heavy smiled. His doktor had that manic gleam in his eye that heralded experimentation and his very broad definition of 'progress'. It made the mega-baboon heart flutter in his chest. With his wings spread wide in overly-theatrical grandeur, he managed to be even more impossibly elegant than he had always been, snowflakes blowing through the open door and dancing around him. “You are very excited about this. Does moy golubchik care more for the discovery, or because will have huge monster boyfriend?” he teased, knowing full well the answer was an overall yes.

“I already have a huge monster boyfriend, Schatz. I will simply have an even bigger one,” Medic grinned, eyeing up the giant. “What do you say? Would you consent to this experiment?”  
Heavy shrugged. He was, and would forever be, Medic's willing test subject. “Will be interesting. Am curious to know how I will look,” he chuckled. “What must I do?”

Bouncing on his toes, Medic led Heavy out into the cold, taking their movement slow as the giant picked carefully through the snow with bare feet. Archimedes, not caring for the chill and bluster, took off back into the base with a flutter. “Because jotun can be any variety of shapes und sizes, you should take your more restrictive clothes off to be sure you will not be hurt in the transformation. Start there, und I will finish setting up.”

“Now am sure you are doing this for sex,” the Russian teased, setting about unraveling his handwraps.

Medic waved him off. “The sweats can stay. They can stretch, after all.” Turning to Sniper, he clapped a hand on the Australian's shoulder. “That should be all, Sniper. Danke for your assistance. Such rugged work is not my specialty.”

Sniper stood, wrapping his arms around himself as he fairly shook himself apart with shivers. “You're welcome, Doc. Just remember, you owe me one, yeh?”

“Of course, mein Freund.”

“Aces. I'm gonna go try and get feelin' back into my body. Maybe get these cold hands on Demo's back before they thaw out, 'n try and dodge the punches,” the Australian chuckled, tipping his hat to Heavy on his way inside.

With a small laugh, Medic led Heavy to the side of the fire, where a wool mat painted with the rune 'man' sat. He had the Russian stand on the mat, warmed by the bonfire and chilled at his back. The light danced along his chin and cast shadows from his cheeks over his eyes. “Stand here. And do not be afraid” The garuda took his lover's hand in both of his, rubbing his thumbs over its back. “I would not do something do you I could not reverse, und I would never put you in danger, Misha. Ich liebe dich.”

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” Heavy replied with a warm smile.

Medic pressed a kiss to Heavy's knuckles before dropping his hand and ducking back inside, emerging with a small satchel. He pulled out a wooden bowl and held it out, prompting Heavy to take hold of it, cupping it between his hands. Medic withdrew a clay bottle from the bag and uncorked it with his teeth. He upended it, pouring a clear, pale gold liquid into the bowl. When he was finished, he stuffed the cork back in awkwardly with his mouth, and shoved it back in the bag.

“What is?” Heavy asked, sniffing. It smelled alcoholic.

“It is mead. Honey wine. A sacrifice of sorts,” the doctor explained, reaching a thumb into the bowl and wetting his thumb, which he used to anoint the giant with the liquid. “This spell is loosely based off of an old Norse magical practice, called seiðr. Take a sip, und hold onto this.”

Heavy did as he was told, taking a small draught of the wine. It was cold, of course, and indeed, tasted like clover honey. The bite of its alcohol was greatly overshadowed by its sweetness, and he could understand why his papa's ancestors favoured the drink.

Meanwhile, Medic set about digging a set of polished stones from his bag. He set his bag aside and took up his distaff, then paced around the area, setting each stone in some kind of specific arrangement. Craning to look, Heavy could see each stone bore a carved-in Norse rune. 'Ur', an ox for strength. 'Tyr', a warrior's arrow. 'Peorth', the dice of destiny. 'Eoh', a yew symbolizing rebirth. 'Odal', the home, to mark his hertitage. Last, he set out 'is', for ice, and 'thorn', for giant. Between each stone placed, Medic drew a line with the butt of his distaff, leaving an array of crossing lines in a vague circle around Heavy and the fire. Once finished, he took the staff in one hand, and withdrew a small glass phial from the pocket of his coat. It contained water that looked almost blue in his pinkish-grey hand.

“Schatz, make the offering. Pour the mead,” Medic ordered.

Heavy obeyed, upending the bowl to pour the offering into the fire. Rather than douse it, as the low-alcohol liquid should have, it made the fire spring to life, rising higher, burning brighter whiter, and making the half-jotun lean back in surprise.

Medic began to dance.

Simple steps, nothing elegant or choreographed, but a bounding step, carried the garuda around the edge of the magic circle he had crafted in the snow. His taloned feet crunched with each step, sinking into the loose-pack and kicking it up as he moved, his wings spread wide and flapping to help balance himself.

He swung the distaff in wide arcs, alternating between salutations to the sky and entreaties to the fire, barely grazing the flames with its flaxen end. It did not light, but instead, began to glow.

To Medic's eyes, the whole area was awash in colour. The gentle threads of magic that hummed in the air of the frozen mountain collected in pools of green within the runes, the flames, and the lines that intersected it all. The mead that anointed Heavy's head glowed the softest. As the garuda passed the distaff through these wells of colour, they gathered on it, slithering through the fibers of flax, humming through the wood in Medic's hand. Each pass took more magic up, a twist of the distaff picking it up like cotton candy clinging to a paper cone. He circled and circled, his voice a low hum, sounding a wordless song.

To Heavy's sight, Medic's staff glowed a bright, vibrant azure, and it shone brighter than the fire before him.

Finally, when he had finally gathered the magic from its points along the circle, Medic came to a half across the fire pit from Heavy, the distaff clutched in one hand, phial in the other. He touched the tip of the phial to the magic flax on the staff, pulling a thread of magic with it as he pulled it away. He let the phial slip through his fingers, pinching the magic itself to hold the glass aloft as it spun in the air, pulling more of the magic thread from the distaff and wrapping it around itself, spinning and spinning until it had wrenched the arcane energy from the flax and ensconced itself in a glowing ball of pure arcana.

Medic thrust the distaff butt-first into the ground in front of himself and closed his hands around the phial. One hand came away holding the ball of magic, the other the phial, its water softly glowing. He spread his wings wide. Intoning, “Smíða maðr gera jotunn,” he thrust his hands forward, one hurling the phial into the fire pit, the other opening to bare its palm to Heavy, the magic collected within streaking forward. It pierced the flames and struck Heavy in the chest, quickly subsuming the man in bright azure. The flames roared forth as the phial broke upon its logs, erupting skyward in a sheet of green.

Heavy's body was awash in green energy to the doctor's squinting eyes, barely visible amid the green flames as it grew and grew. In a matter of seconds, the glowing outline of his half-jotun lover had shot up over a foot and a half, growing broader and wider to match. A near-mountain of muscle cast entirely in viridescent energy stood behind the flames, which danced in orgiastic delight, entreating the stars above in guttering grasps even as it began to die down. When at last the fire had calmed and its colour had returned to the bright orange blaze of crackling wood, so to did the energy that surrounded Heavy, blue to his own vision, green to his lover's. Motes of light began to break apart all along his shape, and with a strong gust of wind, were carried away to wink out of existence in a sheet of sparkles. Left in their wake was Heavy, changed.

Medic's eyes were wide as they beheld what the Russian had become. His mouth fell agape, and he was struck with wonder at what he had wrought.

Heavy towered over the flames before him, eight feet in height and with the increased bulk to match. His skin, once a light peachy tone, was grey with a chilly blue tinge that brought to mind ice-crusted mountain peaks like the ones in which they were standing. What struck Medic, other than his massive size, were the softly glowing points of pale blue beneath his heavy brows, shadowed by the firelight and unnerving in their luminescence.

“Heavy?”

“Doktor,” the giant rumbled, his voice deeper, thicker, more akin to thunder than the garuda had ever heard. “It is done?”

“It is,” Medic breathed, stepping forward.

Heavy took a step, skirting the fire and coming into the meager light of the fading day, allowing Medic to have a look at him even as he stared down in wonder at his lover, now so much smaller than him.

He was magnificent. Muscle and fat as always, formed in massive scale, Heavy stood before him as a jotun, an ice giant, and looked every bit the part. His bald head now bore two gently pointed ears, and indeed, his eyes glowed softly, their glacial blue hue even paler and more otherworldly for it. The stubble on his chin and head darkened the dusky, pale affect of his skin, having grown darker with the transformation, and across his chest, belly, arms, shoulders, and the backs of his hands, his hair indeed had grown from a warm brown to a cool black, fluffy and dancing as the chilly winds buffeted Heavy's nude flesh. The sweats that had once hung comfortably loose on him now fit his form tightly, outlining the shape of his muscular legs and ass, though the elastic at the waist and cuffs, which now ended mid-calf, were now barely holding together. His bare feet crunched through the snow, and he seemed uncaring of the chill, looking down in wonder at his lover, now so much smaller than he.

“You are so tiny,” he said, knowing it technically was not the case. “Am...so big,” he rejoined, a little quiet, a little thoughtful. He looked down at his gargantuan hands, then back to Medic, who was motionless before him, still wearing a look of disbelieving wonder.

“Schatz...” Medic finally stepped forward, closing the distance between them, forcing himself to crane his head up to look at his lover's handsome face. Were he to look straight ahead, he was eye-level with the jotun's chest, able to touch his nose to a nipple without effort. “You are...amazing.” One bare, keratin-backed hand came up to touch the Russian's belly, still endearingly soft atop his strong core. His fingers played through the hair that covered it, and he smiled. “Look at you. Mein jotun, an actual, literal giant. Wunderbar.” He pressed his cheek against Heavy's chest and rubbed against the dense coating of soft hair there. He inhaled deeply and sighed contentedly.

Heavy chuckled, and the sound vibrated against the garuda's face, through his hand, and into the ground itself. “Does moy golubchik like?”

“Very much so,” Medic murmured, pressing a kiss to his lover's skin. It was warm to the touch in spite of the chill that was seeping into his own bones, making him fold his wings up against himself. “Are you cold?”

“Nyet. Feel wind, know that it is cold, but it does not bother me. Does not hurt like snow on bare feet should. Is...strange.” An enormous hand came up to cup Medic's back, gently holding his wings close against his body and radiating heat into them and through his coat. It was a comforting heat, like a quilt fresh from the dryer, and Medic relaxed into the jotun's grasp even as that hand covered his whole back, its sheer size sparked heat elsewhere in the garuda's body.

“Let us go inside, mein Kuschelbär. I wish to examine you, if I may. Perhaps take some measurements. And while you do not feel it, and you are helping to remedy the situation quite well, I should like to escape this verdammt cold and snow.”

Heavy smiled down at his lover, at the snowflakes collecting in his perfectly-combed hair,  and  made a noise of agreement. “Da, should get little bird to warmth.”  He stepped back and squatted, threading one arm behind his lover's knees and scooping him off of his feet and into his arms like his blushing bride. “Will make you very warm, do not worry,” he teased, grinning as Medic's rime-reddened face settled into an expression somewhere between flustered, flattered, and completely turned-on.

“ I—suppose measurements and examinations can wait until you have warmed me enough,” the doctor giggled, one hand coming up to cup the giant's jaw.

With a kick, Heavy sent a lump of snow into the fire pit, making the flames hiss and begin to die. Another salvo, and they were dead, embers seething beneath the logs as what water was left drained through the wood and ash.  Satisfied that he'd be the cause of no forest fires, he turned and ducked through the shutter door to the base. He hummed for a moment, trying to figure out how to close the door with arms full of German, then shrugged, hefted Medic effortlessly onto one shoulder, and carefully shut the door with one huge hand. Once the lock was secure, he slung the tittering garuda back into his arms and continued into the base, grateful the ceilings were just a little taller than he was.

The jaunt to their quarters was short, if a bit complicated in trying to fit Heavy through the smal l doorway without setting down his lover. He squatted and sidled to get inside, ignoring  Medic's amused giggles as he performed the awkward maneuver. Kicking the door closed, he frowned at Medic, then brought him over to the bed and gently dropped him onto it. “What is so funny?” he asked, knowing full well the answer.

“I am sorry,” the doctor grinned, adjusting his glasses. “I understand how awkward these small doorways can be when you've been...altered.”

“Doktor did run into many doorways with wings at first,” Heavy smiled.

Looking up at the handsome jotun, his grey-blue face, his gently glowing eyes, his massive scale, made Medic's chest tighten. It didn't seem possible for the man to become more attractive, and yet he always seemed to with every laugh, with every grin, and every gentle word. Making him bigger just magnified his majesty. “ Mein Gott, you are so handsome,” he cooed abruptly, only making his lover's smile broaden.

“Does my doktor want to see more?” Heavy teased, sliding his huge thumbs into the too-tight waist of his sweats.

Medic could barely contain his excitement. “Please,” he hissed,  his own fingers straying to the buttons of his coat and quickly popping them open.

With little ceremony, the jotun did as he was asked, tugging his sweatpants down his hips. He bent forward to shove them down his thighs and fight the elastic cuffs off of his calves, stepping out of the half-ruined garment before straightening back up and allowing Medic to finally take in the sight of him in his entirety. For the second time, the garuda's mouth fell agape.

Heavy was already a man gifted with a big dick to start with. In both girth and length, he had been intimidating for the average man. But now with his increase in scale so too had his genitals kept pace, perhaps even further exaggerated than they had been, and Medic salivated at the sight. He was awesome in the classical sense, sending a shiver of wonder and trepidation through the smaller man at the sight of his terrific size, even as it had just begun to fatten with arousal. What had once been a pleasantly tight fit would now be an effort, a trial to welcome into his body, and it brought to mind Sniper's stories of Demoman's monstrous member.

Medic sat up and gazed with interest at his lover's upgraded equipment, his bare hands leaving their task of unbuttoning his coat in favour of grasping gently at its root. Even mostly flaccid, he could no longer close his fingers around its circumference, the gap between thumb and forefinger making his breath catch as he looked it over. Grey as the rest of the jotun, it bore the same bluish cast to its flesh, but purpled toward the head where it would have been a rosy flush of pink. Heavy let out a small sound as Medic began to caress his rapidly growing shaft, each pulse of fresh blood to its tissues widening the gap between the doctor's circled fingers and bringing still more excitement to his eyes.

“Mein Gott,” Medic murmured, speeding his hands, rubbing at Heavy's shaft, at his foreskin and the violet head that was beginning to peek out from inside it and down to his chill-tightened but slowly loosening sac. Heavy's arousal was obvious and the smell of him was intoxicating; a scent of pheromones, need, and just a tinge of residual sweat from his workout. Medic was salivating.

Heavy looked down unsteadily at the smaller man, feeling both completely on display and enjoying it at once. To be ogled by Medic always sent a thrill through him, and with the older man seeming so small, so delicate to his new reckoning, it only amplified the feeling. He sucked in a breath and swallowed, one gargantuan hand coming up to cup the entirety of the garuda's shoulder, “Doktor...”

Medic climbed onto his knees, better able to reach Heavy's growing cock, and rubbed his cheek against its underside. His flesh was so warm in the chill of the room. He wrapped both hands around the jotun's shaft, his fingertips barely touching, and tugged the head down to his face, letting his gaze slide over the smooth, purple flesh of its crown. Nearly erect, Medic grew a little worried once he was so close to it, his tongue snaking out to wet his lips. It would have been difficult to fit in his mouth, impossible to do it w ithout scraping his teeth along the jotun's sensitive ski n. The head, with its fat ridge and blunt tip, did not taper near as much as it had when Heavy was a mere human, the change in scale not very merciful for the doctor, and with a small thoughtful hum, he wrapped his lips around the very end, testing to see how much would fit.

Heavy gasped, his fingers curling to dig into Medic's shoulder a bit, parting around his wings, though the garuda found that the contact under his wing felt more ticklish than painful. He made a mental note to ensure Scout never learned that fact and continued his attempted blowjob.

The jotun tasted amazing. He always did, but Medic found he could comfortably only fit about the first third of Heavy's crown into his mouth, laving his tongue as best he could and dipping into his slit in curiosity. He felt the flesh between his lips pulse, still growing, becoming further engorged, and slipping from his mouth as its size pushed him away. His breath caught, his fingertips no longer touching around Heavy's girth, and it terrified and thrilled him. How big was he going to get?

  
Medic pulled off with a slurp, relishing the small throaty noise of pleasure and distress Heavy chased him with, and set about licking him all over. He tongue-bathed his head, his shaft, nipping at his foreskin and licking beneath that with long probing swipes. He rubbed his forehead, his nose, his cheek, his lips against the giant's massive member, needy, hungry, wanting it so badly in spite of its sheer enormity.

By the time Heavy was completely hard, Medic wasn't sure whether he was more terrified or turned on, but the likely combination of both had him worshiping at the giant's flesh like a golden idol. He  was thick, worryingly so, with a shaft as wide as a magnum of wine, though the ridge of its head flared wider than that. He was long as well, easily a foot, possibly a bit longer. Medic idly entertained a thought of retrieving his calipers and actually taking those measurements he had joked about.

After all, he did fully intend to take a range of Heavy's measurements in this new form. But the initial mention had simply been flimsy innuendo. Science could wait a little longer in the face of a far less objective, far less mathematical form of experimentation.

Heavy moaned quietly  under the attention , or as quietly as he could, his voice even at its meekest sounding strangely loud in the small room, resonating deep in his massive chest. “Doktor,” he tried to whisper, “are sure you want to?”

“ You have no idea how much I want this, mein Riese.” The garuda's voice was already thick with lust, and to punctuate his statement, he nuzzled into Heavy's balls, his tongue snaking out to lap at them.

“Then take fancy magic clothes off before I must rip them off,” he groaned, his grip moving up to cup the back of Medic's head and neck.

Medic shivered, leaning back into his lover's hand and debating the pros and cons of letting Heavy do as he had threatened. Certainly, it would be fantastically sexy, the titanic Russian tearing away his clothes until he lay naked and vulnerable before him, exposed and subject to his hunger and need. But all the same, the enchanted clothing the garuda had purchased custom to be able to accommodate his wings were not only expensive, but also time-consuming to obtain, and high in the mountain base where they were stationed, he did not foresee a trip out to Rune's shop anytime in the near future for further tailoring. With a sigh, he released the jotun's colossal cock and set about unbuttoning his waistcoat and shirt.

Heavy stepped back, sighing with some relief as he watched the doctor work, shrugging his garments off and letting the fabric phase through his wings as they puddled on the bed. Medic stood, taking hold of the bundle of fabric, and threw it into the hamper. He quickly set about his trousers, his belt clacking as he flicked it open and went for his fly. Taking hold of his cock, Heavy stroked himself slowly as he took in the beautiful sight of his avian lover baring more and more of his perfect skin. Grown to full hardness, even the jotun was surprised by the size of himself, amused to find he was larger even without his change of scale take into consideration. Such blessings of his lineage, he supposed, trying to quickly tamp down a horrible realization about his mother's fortitude that had suddenly imposed itself somewhere at the back of his mind.

He worried for Medic. The garuda was a size queen without equal, and he had personally helped the smaller man take toys nearly as large as he had grown, but all the same, it seemed different when that huge insertion was attached to Heavy's hips, with far more temptation to lose his precise control that simply using his hands to provide the motion presented.

As the doctor shed his trousers and set aside his spectacles, finally standing before him in just his underwear—a lacy pair of white panties with bows at the hips—Heavy forgot his reservations. With a groan of need, he surged forward to lift the smaller man by the waist with both massive hands and bring them face-to-face. The jotun shifted his grip, one hand under the doctor's ass, groping and supporting at once, while the other held him close, pressing their bodies together and stealing the air from the smaller man's lungs. He threw his arms around Heavy's broad, muscular shoulders and let his black-nailed fingers dance through the jotun's shoulder hair.

Heavy kissed Medic roughly, his tongue filling the smaller man's mouth as he pushed into it. He tasted hot and sweet; the tinge of mead still on his tongue like gently burning honey. Medic wrapped his long legs as far around the jotun as he could, and even though his taloned feet did not touch, he squeezed, straining his thighs, urging Heavy onward. He wanted this, needed this, and knew Heavy did too. Their breaths mingled, coming rough and erratic as their lips clashed and tongues wrestled, the sheer size of the organ invading the doctor's mouth making heat build between Medic's thighs and a tightness wind through his gut.

How utterly alien; how terribly sexy. Pulling back from their kiss with a wet smack, Medic panted, pressing his forehead to his gigantic lover's. “Heavy, please,” he whispered, out of breath and terribly aroused. “Take me.”

With a grin, the jotun set Medic down on the bed, letting him carefully unfurl his wings to get comfortable before releasing his full weight onto the mattress. He looked down at the recumbent garuda with hooded, lustful, glowing eyes.

Medic was beautiful. Long, strong legs. A lean, muscular frame that benefited not just from the medical experimentation that kept him regenerating and aging brilliantly, but also regular exercise and care. Beautiful, white, angelic wings. A statuesque face with a strong jaw and bright, expressive eyes. The sight of him laying there, half-working himself into a pose like some pin-up model in his lacy white panties, sent a pang to Heavy's heart as much as his groin. He was utterly perfect, and forever, he was his. What great fortune he had been granted to have this radiant creature in his life, his arms, his bed.

Medic shimmied his panties off and reached for the night stand, pulling out a bottle of lubricant with a raised eyebrow.

Heavy couldn't wait to make him scream.

“Doktor, do not know if fingers are small enough to get you ready,” he admitted, looking down at his monstrously big hands and their thick, strong fingers. “Will have to start self.”

“I think you just want to watch me finger meinself,” the garuda teased, popping open the bottle and pouring some of the liquid onto his middle and ring finger. He shifted onto his side, and leaning up on his elbow, slipped those fingers into the cleft of his ass to rub slow circles around his entrance with a sigh.

“Is that problem?” Heavy rumbled, his hand returning to his cock to lazily stroke at it as he watched. His eyes flicked from Medic's presented ass to his face and the cheeky grin he wore, utterly enamoured with the sexy garuda touching himself. As Medic pressed in, dipping his middle finger inside of himself, he went from grinning to gasping, his brow dropping into a furrow and his eyes sliding closed. His mouth parted in a small o-shape around a quiet moan. The jotun echoed the sound.

Medic worked quickly, slipping his ring finger in almost immediately, eager to be done with preparation. In various ways, he'd been preparing for months for this moment, and now, scissoring his fingers and hooking them to tug at the tight muscles of his hole and coax them to relax, he found himself infinitely impatient. All of his preparation, and he had to prepare still more, and it was maddening even as hot throbs of pleasure ran out from his stretched ass as he added another finger to spread himself wide. His breath caught as he spread his fingers, that pleasantly uncomfortable heat building in his muscle. He worked quickly, efficiently—if a bit hurried—and pulled his hand free to slick it up further and plunge it back inside, adding his pinky after a bit more work.

He almost regretted having to do so much of it himself, wishing he could lay back and enjoy the sensation, rather than concentrate on easing his body open in such an awkward position with his hand beginning to ache from the effort. He huffed a breath in frustration, and soon found his wrist pinched between Heavy's thumb and forefinger.

“Doktor, you are ready for me,” he murmured, urging him to free his hand. “Can help you from here. Lay on back and enjoy now.” He reached into the hamper and pulled out a discarded pair of boxers for his lover to wipe his lube-slick hand on, then tossed them back with the dirty laundry when he was finished. With a gentle press, his broad palm covered Medic's entire chest as he pressed him back, forcing him to lay down flat on the bed. The garuda obeyed with a warm, appreciative smile, and pulled his legs up against his chest to expose himself for Heavy's attention.

Taking the lube, Heavy poured some out onto a large finger, more than a little amused by the fact that a single one of his was the size of two of Medic's digits. The doctor had done far more work than he needed to in his frustration, and so Heavy slicked a second finger as well before setting the bottle down and taking hold of Medic's ankles together in his free hand. The garuda let his hands fall from bracing the backs of his knees and watched his massive lover settle at the foot of the bed, a lurid smile on his grey-blue lips, which were just slightly tinged with violet from the force of their earlier kiss.

“My beautiful Doktor,” Heavy rumbled, pushing one finger into Medic and sighing as he was welcomed with ease. The garuda arched as best he could with his legs held in the jotun's mighty grasp, his wings shaking. Heavy's fingers were _so_ thick, _so_ warm, and as he slipped the second one in, filled him up _so_ nicely. Heavy curled his fingers, hooking into his lover's prostate and relishing the shout of pleasure that rewarded him. The legs in his hands flexed and shook, white wings beat uselessly against the mattress, and Medic clutched at his own scalp, hands threading through his once-immaculately styled hair, making it a bedraggled mess. His cry became a low croon that did not decrease in volume, the jotun continuing to flick his gargantuan digits against that perfect spot inside of him. Medic rolled his hips as best he could, begging for more, his body winding tight with each evil press into his inner wall.

“Gott, don't stop, don't stop, never stop,” he pleaded, eyes slamming shut. He writhed in place, his cock beginning to leak. “Bitte!”

So, of course, Heavy stopped, returning to stretching the smaller man with a devilish grin. He scissored his fingers wide, easing the desperate doctor further open and drinking in the plaintive whine that left the squirming garuda, his taloned feet squeezing at the open air.

“So cruel!” Medic gasped, half-laughing. _“You monster!”_

That had the jotun chuckling and setting his lover's haunches down. He released Medic's legs, letting him take back over holding them aloft, and reached back down for the lube. With a liberal squirt onto the fingers plunging into his lover, Heavy worked a third finger inside, splaying them open and drinking in the strained sounds that rewarded him as he took his time spreading Medic wide. “You are alright, Doktor?”

“Ach, ja! Bitte, can you fit? I cannot wait much longer,” Medic panted, clutching the backs of his knees. It was no lie. Heavy's fingers were thick and warm inside him, his calloused skin rough against his sensitive flesh. He wanted more. He needed more. To be entered and taken, fucked with the jotun's colossal cock and ruined. “Bitte!”

Heavy hummed his amusement, working the doctor open carefully. He took his cock in hand, giving it a few slow strokes as he regarded the pink, lube-slick skin of his lover's hole. He could probably fit at this point. A cock would be far more forgiving than fingers, and certainly a smoother ride. And hearing the garuda's continuing whispers of, “Bitte, bitte...,” did little to dissuade him. “Da. Are ready,” he confirmed with a thoughtful softness to his voice. Carefully slipping his fingers out of Medic, he snatched the lube up one last time and filled his hand with the stuff. He slathered the slippery liquid over his cock, careful to coat every last inch of it, even running a slick finger under his retracted foreskin just in case. He wanted to be sure this would be safe and as comfortable as possible for both of them. Though how something this big going into his ass could be expressly comfortable for Medic, he was unsure. Bottoming was fun, but the garuda certainly had a taste for the extreme.

It was part of what made him so damned attractive, the madman.

Once he was sure he was lubricated enough, Heavy set the bottle down within reach and adjusted his position between Medic's spread legs, kneeling up and holding his cock just behind its head. “How do you want this, Doktor? On back? On knees?”

“Like this,” Medic moaned. “I want to see you as you enter me. I want to bask in your size.”

Heavy smirked, “Izvrashchenets. Moy izvrashchenets.”

Medic knew the word well enough to grin at its use. He'd certainly heard his lover accuse him of perversion on more than one occasion; a hilariously accurate if hypocritical observation from the Russian who so willingly enabled him. He spread his thighs further, pitching higher onto his back to bring his haunches up and ignoring the pinch in his wings as he dug their elbows into the bed.

Heavy took hold of Medic's ass cheek in one hand, tugging it aside with his thumb as he angled his cock to press against the garuda's lube-slick hole. He sucked in a breath, the sheer heat radiating off of his lover's sensitive flesh making his stomach jump. He cast a glance to the hooded blue eyes gazing eagerly at him, at the rise and fall of the doctor's belly, at the already-weeping cock that stood proudly from his dark pubic hair. He pushed slowly into Medic.

The doctor tensed immediately, arching up in spite of himself as Heavy began to breach him. Lube eased the way, but what was at first a comfortable return of a thick stretch quickly became something far more. The head of his cock did not taper far, fat at the tip and growing wider with every milimetre that passed into him. The jotun was careful, pushing more with his hand than his hips, and when Medic let out a whine, he paused, petting at his thigh as he waited for the doctor to adjust.

“You are okay?”

“Ja, just...,” Medic hissed, his nictitating membranes sliding over his eyes as he squinted his eyelids and clutched at the bed. Heavy's cock was so fat, so hard, the stretch burned beautifully. He gasped, wriggling against what little was inside of him. It hurt. It hurt so much, but so good, a rough ache that thrummed through his pelvis. How had they thought he was prepared for this? How had they been so impatient? “How much is inside?”

“Half of the head,” Heavy replied, watching the doctor's hole clench and flex around him and biting back soft sounds. He was barely inside and Medic was already in distress, but the warmth and the clutching of his ass beckoned him further.

“Half? Mein Gott!” The doctor clenched his jaw and tried actively to relax, to slow his breathing, to calm himself. There was no way he'd be able to take Heavy with his body taut and tight, and he was terribly aware of it. Planting his taloned feet against the jotun's chest, he closed his eyes and forced himself to calm down. He could feel it working, feel his muscles loosening, feel the pain die off a bit. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, he spread himself with his hands and looked up at Heavy, who continued to pet at him with worry. “Go.”

“You are sure?”

Medic nodded, and Heavy went, pushing further, working more in. Gods, he felt amazing. When he saw the garuda's brows pinch tight, he stopped again, and pulled slowly out.

“What are you—”

“Shhh,” the jotun soothed, rubbing his hipbone with one giant thumb. When just the very tip was still inside of Medic, he pushed back in again, slow as ever, until he hit the point of resistance again then went still. He pulled back again and returned with another push, finding himself slipping just a bit deeper, so he withdrew and thrust again. His breath came a little less steadily, a little deeper, and he reserved his voice to listen for Medic's cues, for the strained groans that signaled him to pull back. There certainly was enough noise to guide him.

Medic whined with the strain, helpless sounds on the tail of each pant, his eyes falling back closed to allow himself focus. If he could just get the head inside, everything else would be doable. It still wouldn't be easy. Nothing so massive could ever be easy, but it could be easier. He'd never opened himself this far before, a thought that thrilled him as Heavy's short thrusts worked him progressively open and fucked him shallowly. When Heavy stalled out inside of him and did not retreat, Medic opened his eyes quizzically. “Was ist los?”

“Am almost there,” Heavy said, his voice thick with lust. It rumbled through their bodies, through the bed, the deep vibration of his tones sending chills up the garuda's back and out through his wings. “Almost inside. Can make last push, if you can handle, moy golubchik.”

The German grunted beneath him, wriggling a little on the bed and thinking. After a moment of quiet, the only sound between them their hurried breaths, he nodded with a whispered, “Do it.”

Heavy's gaze lingered on him for a moment, to determine his surety, and once satisfied, he returned to his work. Gripping himself by the shaft, he resumed his ingress, pushing himself into Medic's wide-stretched hole. It spread further, his pinkened flesh reddening with the strain and soreness as it made way for the gargantuan girth of his cock, its purple-blue head disappearing slowly inside of him.

Medic's eyes rolled back, his jaw clenched tight as he forced all of his tension there rather than let his body tighten under the stress. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, and the burn of his muscles parting, his skin stretching, his ass reluctantly allowing the jotun entrance made his guts clench and heave. He felt light-headed, overcome, but in the same moment, he felt a mounting fullness unlike anything he'd ever experienced. The pain was interlaced with wonderful, terrible pleasure, and he could feel his own pulse in his cock and his ass as his arousal only grew. He clutched at himself, at his hair, at the bed, his wings shuddering and beating uselessly at the mattress. He grasped Heavy's biceps with his talons, his legs spread and shaking, and all at once, he felt it almost like a pop; the head was inside of him, and his hole was allowed some measure of mercy as it flexed and twitched around the shaft of the jotun's cock.

He cried out, a near-bellow as he finally allowed himself to breathe, his gasps coming rough and making his belly rise and fall in erratic waves. Heavy was inside, and tears had gathered at the corners of his eyes in his duress. He wiped them away and squinted up at the giant, who was looking down at him with a hunger that made him shiver. Gulping down air, he studied Heavy's expression, those glowing eyes roving over his overwrought form. “How does it feel?” he asked, the corner of his mouth tugging upward in spite of his distress.

The jotun pet at his lover's belly, his side, his chest, no longer gripping himself and instead concentrating on soothing the trembling man below him. “So tight,” came his delayed reply, perhaps a bit more of a growl than he'd intended. “So hot and good, Doktor.” His fingertips brushed Medic's cheek and trailed down his jaw tenderly, making the smaller man smile and crane into the touch. “How are you?”

  
“Amazing,” was Medic's honest reply, his hand coming up to cup Heavy's, which dwarfed the side of his face and head in its enormity. “So amazing. I am filled with you, with so much more to go, und it feels like I am going to come apart, I am stretched so wide.” He clenched around Heavy's cock, forcing a choked moan from the jotun at the tight squeeze, and answered it with a groan of his own. “I want all of you. I want you to fill me up und fick mich und make me scream your name,” he growled, grasping the Russian's wrist with purpose, a mad grin crossing his perfect teeth.

“Doktor...”

“Get me used to you, und then do not hold back. Take me, mein jotun!”

The demand struck Heavy in his balls, a throb and tightness taking hold and lighting a fire within his belly. He loved to take Medic, to fuck him until his voice was hoarse, until both of their bodies were sore, but with the sheer difference in scale, he worried it would do more to harm his beloved than to please the both of them. But that manic grin, that lustful gaze, and the black-nailed hand currently threading through his chest hair to pet at him reminded him that Medic was no weak, delicate thing. The man had performed medical experiments on himself, up to and including surgery. He had performed magical experiments on himself. He was made of sterner stuff than Heavy had a tendency of letting himself believe, and knew his own limits better than anyone.

If Medic wanted to get stuffed full of his cock and fucked within an inch of his life, by the gods, Heavy would give him what he wanted.

Sliding his hands back to Medic's hips, he took firm hold on either side and gave him a gentle squeeze. “Are you ready, Doktor?”

“Fick mich,” the garuda hissed through a wild grin, throwing his head back with a jubilant cry when his lover obeyed. Heavy tugged at his hips, pulling him backwards onto the colossal cock that skewered him slowly. His movements careful, measured, making sure to allow Medic every chance to adjust to the gradual ingress of his length into the garuda's hot, welcoming body.

The tightness was maddening. Medic cleaved to every last bit of Heavy like a suction sleeve, making way only by the insistence of his entry, squeezing and clutching at him with trembling, sore muscle as he buried himself further and further into that lube-slick heat. Medic yowled as he was impaled, his taloned feet squeezing at Heavy's shoulders, his legs spread wide and willing. His cock was nearly as purple as Heavy's, leaking precome in a slow, steady stream down the arch of his erection as the jotun's all-encompassing size put pressure everywhere inside of him. The garuda's black-nailed hands came back down from groping at his giant, instead clutching at his scalp and threading into his hair and covering his eyes with the heels of his palms. His voice reverberated against his wrists, loosed in wordless caterwauling as he felt his insides grow fuller and fuller, the burning stretch largely under control, but leaving him with the duress of being stuffed.

Heavy was long, and though Medic had taken toys of such inadvisable length before, never before had he taken anything so wide, nor anything so long of even close to appreciable girth. He filled Medic to capacity, pushing more and more of his titanic phallus into the panting, wailing man beneath him, a breathy groan leaving his nose.

It took a few minutes, stopping and starting, slow movements and the generous addition of more lube, but soon Medic's wide-stretched hole was wrapped around the entirety of Heavy's cock, the grey-blue of the jotun's balls resting against his lover's spread asscheeks. Petting Medic's thighs, Heavy murmured encouragements in Russian, letting his hands slip up and down the garuda's legs. He tickled his fingers through the downy feathers that grew below his knees, forming the border between human-like skin and the hard, keratinous flesh of his avian lower legs and feet. “You are doing good. So good,” he soothed, unhooking Medic's taloned grasp on him and wrapping his legs around his own waist, letting them dangle where the would be entirely unable to close the circle around his broad frame.

Medic relaxed into the new position, sighing as those gargantuan hands roved his naked body, a thumb brushing his cock, fingers tickling through chest hair, palms flat and warm against his bare flesh. One finger poked between his lips, and he lapped at it, more than a little aware of its thickness in his mouth. He laved his tongue over its calloused tip and winked up at his lover, who chuckled in reply before sliding that hand away to rest under the arch of his back. Heavy lifted one of the garuda's keratinous hands to his own mouth, kissing his knuckles, the back of his hand, and his wrist. He nuzzled at the downy feathers just below his elbow and let Medic pet at his face before releasing him. Pitching up onto his knees, Heavy leaned forward over Medic, tugging his lower body up with him as he adjusted his position. He planted one palm in the mattress above Medic's head and held the crest of his back with his other, clutching Medic tight to his body and folding him nearly in half. The doctor reached up to grip Heavy's enormous forearms, looking at him with a mixture of excitement and trepidation, but when the jotun's hips began to move, his expression pinched in with pain before his jaw fell open in a throaty cry.

Heavy slipped out to the head, as far out as he dared go lest he be unable to fit himself back inside, then slid back in, filling Medic in a smooth motion. It forced the air from him like squeezing a bellows, his voice carried through his wide open mouth in a wordless shout. Medic's nails dug into Heavy's skin, and he whined when the jotun withdrew next, only to let out another hoarse yowl when he was filled again.

And again.

And again.

Heavy built a slow rhythm, his massive body hunched over Medic as he thrust into him, filling him to capacity and dragging himself along the garuda's insides in searing trails of pleasure. He worried at first, but Medic's wailing words begging more, harder, bitte, faster, bitte, _bitte_ , were the encouragement he needed to continue, towering over the winged man and fucking him with increasing speed.

Gods, he was hot. He was tight. He was writhing in the jotun's grasp, his wings shuddering and his legs shaking as he took Heavy deep, stretched terribly wide and craving ever more. Sweat prickled at his joints and his brow, his face bright red and his cock still leaking, a little pool of precome having settled onto his abdomen and matting down his pubic hair. He could do little other than lay there and let Heavy use him, overwhelmed and overstimulated and in jubilant ecstasy.

“Gott, Heavy! Fick mich!”

Heavy obeyed, his hard cock filling Medic, making him feel like there was no space left inside of his body. He felt like he was choking, no air in his lungs, no space for his lungs, just the jotun fucking the breath out of him with each harder, rougher thrust that entered his willing, trembling body.

When Heavy hit speed, rocking into Medic with proper force, proper pace, the bed was protesting loudly with panicked creaks of its flimsy metal frame. Medic held a similar volume, his moans now coming out as wanton howling, the mixture of pleasure and pain making his whole body shudder and shake. His wings beat at the mattress as his shoulders ground into it with each thrust, the familiar slap of flesh finally filling their room after what seemed like an eternity. It was barely audible over Medic's caterwauling, his cries of pleasure a wordless frenzy of sound, unhinged and unbridled. His eyes lay open, nictitating membranes protecting them from the tears that welled there and began to leak down his cheeks as he stared blindly at the ceiling, clutching Heavy out of instinct as the jotun rocked into him, his balls slapping the garuda's ass, their hips colliding hard enough to hurt. He tugged Medic close with the hand on his back as he hammered his hips home, stuffing his cock into the garuda's tense body and taking his pleasure of him.

Heavy's balls ached, pulling tight against his body. They'd been at it for so long, and he was unsure how long he could hold out, determined to fuck Medic until he could handle it no longer, until he couldn't walk, until he couldn't even think, and found himself accomplishing the task admirably.

Medic's orgasm hit them both suddenly and fiercely. The fever of ardor and stress that had built within him, a pressure that seemed just as difficult to contain as the flesh invading his body, broke in a sudden wash, a flood from head to toe that left his body in tremors. It was as though his whole body came, flooding out of a single point and draining the entirety of his orgiastic tension. The garuda was able to hold himself back no longer and near-screaming, he clenched down on the jotun's massive member, his pelvic floor rippling in painfully tight squeezes around Heavy as he shot his load across his belly and chest, feeling like he had ejaculated his central nervous system, numb at his extremities for moments afterward as he convulsed. At his angle, he managed to hit his face, a splatter of white across one cheek making Heavy shiver at the sight. He groaned with Medic, stalling out deep inside of him as the garuda's ass gripped him like a vice.

A growl left Heavy's throat, his jaw clenched tight as he rode out his lover's vicious clamping muscle spasms, a delicious pain that stole the jotun's breath and made him dizzy. Medic lay boneless beneath him as the rhythmic clenches faded, leaving him exhausted and filled with too much cock, sullied by his own seed as he looked up with eyes that clearly could not focus, half-closed vertically and horizontally by lids and membranes. His hair was an absolute mess, a complete loss in need of washing and re-styling to achieve any appearance of normalcy, and his cheeks bore trails of saliva. Sweat sheened his flesh, matting down his fluffy chest hair, and his pubes were soaked with precome. He greedily gasped for the slightest breath, unable to get enough air, unable to do anything but lay there and breathe, utterly ruined by his climax and still speared upon the jotun's cock with little to do about it but just take it. His legs hung from Heavy's hips, his wings flopped atop the bed, and his arms did the same, unable to manifest the energy to move or support them any longer.

Heavy tilted up onto his knees and began to move.

Medic whined, his weak voice growing in volume as the jotun resumed his punishing thrusts into the garuda's sore, used ass. His cries were plaintive, pleading, but he did not stop Heavy. He merely voiced his overstimulation and took what he was given, staring up unseeing as he was taken once again.

Heavy shuddered at the sight, at his vivacious doctor reduced to nothing but a body to fuck, letting himself be used as a mere toy for the jotun's pleasure at this point. It made something tighten in his gut, and he wondered what it would be like if Medic couldn't make noise and had his eyes closed, as if he were sleeping. As if he could sleep through something so taxing. The thought tugged at something deep in his libido, and dimly at the back of his mind where such thoughts were not so clouded out by lust and need, he made a note to ask Medic if they could play with astral projection again sometime.

After all, he would get what he wanted, and Medic did so love to watch himself get fucked. They were the perfect perverts for each other.

Medic warbled hoarsely, being shifted up and down the bed by Heavy's thrusts, his hands holding him in place as he was filled beyond capacity again and again, the beautiful ache of his hole driving him beyond pleasure into near-numbness. As Heavy's pace picked up to its cruelest, he slurped, swallowing the saliva pooling in his mouth as his voice approached screams again, desperate pleas of, “Misha! Gott, Misha, bitte! Bitte!”

Heavy snapped his hips, driving mercilessly into the garuda, the heat and slick of his tight, perfect body intoxicating. When at last he drew screams from Medic again, it was too much, and he couldn't contain himself any longer, despite his best efforts. He felt his balls draw up, his muscles clench, and with a triumphant roar, flooded Medic with his release. The throbs of his cock forcing seed into the garuda had him shuddering, feeling every pulse, every spurt ushered between their bodies as Medic's clenched hole squeezed at him. A shiver ran up his spine and he nearly crumpled atop the smaller man, catching himself on his elbows and riding out his orgasm with his forehead pressed to his lover's. He felt wetness dripping down his balls, and realized that it was his own come leaking out of Medic, the volume of both his shaft and his seed too much for the garuda to contain.

Their breaths thick, their voices silent, Heavy withdrew carefully, slowly from Medic. Sitting back on his heels, he lifted the garuda's hips as he slipped out, shimmying back a bit as he freed him. Medic gaped in his wake, and it was a little terrifying to see, a thick stream of hot, white come slipping out of his abused hole and pooling on the sullied bedsheets. Medic moaned with the movement, seeming to almost deflate once he was finally empty.

“Are you okay, Doktor?” the jotun asked, his voice terribly meek, terribly quiet, terribly worried. What had he done to him? Heavy scooted up the bed to lay beside his lover, folding the smaller man's wings around his limp form and arranging his boneless body into a comfortable position to pull into his enormous arms for warmth and comfort.

“Ja,” Medic breathed, stunned and exhausted. He allowed himself to be cuddled, relaxing into the soothing heat of his lover's brobdingnagian body. He felt lips press against the crown of his head, and a sheet being pulled over their sweating, cooling forms, and soon, fatigue and the steady beating of Heavy's mega-baboon heart lulled him to sleep, wrapped in the mighty jotun's embrace.

 

*

 

“I think the screamin's finally stopped,” RED Engineer reported, reeling a small dish-like gadget in through the cracked window of his team's rec room. He closed the window once his listening device was inside, to grateful looks of a few shivering teammates.

“The hell do you think that was?” RED Scout asked, scooting closer to the fireplace and loosening his vice-grip on the wool blanket around his shoulders.

“Bloody dark things, lad,” RED Demoman muttered, crossing his arms. “Devil's work.”

RED Spy sneered, lighting a cigarette. “It could be any number of horrors, coming from their base. Creatures of the night run freely, monsters and magic gone amuck. Who knows what else could lurk in those halls?”

“Yeah how was _that_ Thanksgivin', by the way?” Scout chuckled, grinning at his teammate. It was no secret that Spy had a thing going with the BLU Scout's mother, and that said BLU Scout was now some sort of deer-creature.

“She made venison, so he gorged on sweet potatoes. He made it not nearly as awkward as I'd hoped or expected. I had expected to watch him squirm. Though, he was forced to wear socks over his hooves on the hardwood floors,” Spy replied with mild amusement.

“Speakin' of squirmin',” Engineer interrupted, a flush spreading across his cheeks. He rubbed at the back of his neck, “Not thinkin' those were screams of, say, terror, or pain, or anythin'.”

RED Medic perked up at that. When they had heard phantom screaming on the wind and deputized Engineer to get a better listen, he had expected report of some sort of horrible medical or magical experimentation, likely caused by that winged menace he called his BLU counterpart. “Was sagst du?”

A bit redder now, Engineer tried not to make eye contact. “Well, to be blunt, it sounded like sex.”

A chorus of “what” and its various equivalents in different languages erupted from the team.

“Seriously?  _That loud?_ ,” Scout asked, eyes wide. It was no secret that at least a few of the guys on the other team weren't so straight, but there was banging your teammates, and then there was banging your teammates so loudly that it could be heard across the battlefield.

“Yep,” came the Texan's reply, clearly uncomfortable, “I mean, if my German is up to snuff. 'Far as I'm aware you don't hear a lot of 'fick mich' outta your usual clinical trials.” He shook his head. “Some things, you just shouldn't hear about a fella,” he muttered, casting a long look first to Medic, then to Heavy, who was frowning behind the book he was trying and failing to concentrate on reading. Everyone followed his gaze, and a few smirks and snickers stood out from the gathered mercenaries.

The funny thing about having duplicates on the other team was that while they were distinct people with differences between them, certain things were the same. Like their voices, their inflections and affectations. So knowing what one Heavy and Medic sounded like left the REDs with the knowledge that it's what their Heavy and Medic would sound like, which was both amusing and a little upsetting in different measure for every man in the room.

Medic fumed and flushed pink, daring a damned one of them to make a snide comment or suggest anything untoward about himself or his  close friend.

With a shake of his head,  Engineer holstered the listening device on his belt and headed for the kitchen. “ Thinkin' I need me a drink after that,” he muttered, trying to  ignore his own idle curiosity as to what act had produced such a reaction.

It had to have been something damned special to have the BLU screeching his lover's real name like praise to the gods.

 

*

 

Heavy stared into the mirror, inspecting the face in front of him with wide eyes.

He knew this face, but he did not know it as his own.

He looked just like him.

Glowing eyes reflected back at glowing eyes, a pale glacial blue that seemed to sear into themselves under their own judging gaze. Heavy was himself, if somewhat different. His eyes were strange and luminous, paler in their blueness, and his ears tapered to a slight, soft point that would have looked just slightly notable, but not terribly odd on a human. But the grey flesh with its soft blue cast, bluer at the tips of his ears, made him obvious even from a distance.

The face that gazed back at him was the face that gazed back at him every time he looked in a mirror. Same strong, wide jaw, same aquiline nose, same heavy brow, high cheekbones, and small-if-bright eyes. He had the same shaven, balding head and fast-growing stubble on his chin. His face was his own.

And yet as Heavy looked into the mirror, he saw the blue-grey skin, the black eyebrows where they should have been brown, and the visage of his father staring back at him, cold and implacable as the Siberian winter.

He had known all his life that he took after his papa, both in size and looks. Zhanna and Bronislava shared papa's nose with him, and it was Yana who joined him in inheriting his jaw, though she had Mama's chin. Mama had told him that his baldness came from her papa, so he had her to thank for his receded hairline, as well as his smile.

But here, he could barely see his Mama in his face. Where before he saw her brow, her hair colour, now he saw only Papa. The same strong, wide jaw, same aquiline nose, same heavy brow, high cheekbones, and small-if-bright eyes. Cast in the cold mountain stone of his jotun flesh, he was the very image of his father, matching even his height. It didn't matter to Heavy the differences that persisted. His balding head, his thicker frame, the soft belly that shielded his core, and the scars of a life hard-fought and hard-won, surviving and fighting his way from prisoner to mercenary to a better and more effective caretaker than his papa had ever been.

W as he just the same as the man he imagined before him?  Was he no better  at all?

He clenched his jaw, his gigantic hands gripping the dresser as he glared down the villain in the mirror, his stomach twisting into something sick and awful. A muted sound, not unlike a creaking quail of his rumbling voice escaped him like a warning siren before the imminent collapse of a condemned building.

Medic woke to that sound.

The garuda's eyes fluttered open, first his lids, then nictitating membranes. His eyes felt puffy and raw from the tears he had shed in passion during their lovemaking. He looked about, confused for the lack of Heavy's warm bulk at his back, then froze. A shock of pain lanced through him and the burning pain of his sore ass hit all at once, making him tense all over for one agonizing moment before he settled back into a position that hurt slightly less. His whole body ached, muscles overtensed to the point of pain, ass throbbing from use, and a pinch in the joints of his wings from how he had been laying for so long. With a gasp and a snuffle, he curled in for a moment, wrapping his free wing around himself in the sudden shock. He needed Heavy to hold him, to warm him against the cold, drafty room, to soothe him. He reopened his eyes and looked about, spying a large blue-grey mass standing before the dresser. He squinted, and made out the clearer, if still blurry, shape of Heavy hunched over, leaning atop the dresser and staring into the mirror. He reached for his glasses.

“ Misha?” he asked, blinking owlishly once he'd settled his spectacles on his face. Heavy looked miserable, staring at his reflection with an expression of pure loathing.

A quiet, cold fear clenched in Medic's chest. Had he done something terrible?

“ Doktor,” Heavy replied in a hoarse whisper, like if he used more of his voice, it would break him. Even so, it still felt too loud to the jotun's ears. “Am I good protector?”

Medic wanted to rush over and hold him, to pet his face and kiss his nose and clutch him close and demand he stop suggesting such things. To his credit, he made the effort, pitching up onto his elbow and edging to the end of the bed, unable to get his legs to cooperate enough to actually climb over the side, let alone stand. He settled for staying half-seated, propped on one arm, and pushed himself up to sit on his hip. “Of course you are! What would make you ask such a thing?”

A rumbling sound escaped Heavy's throat, a soft grumble of sorts. He had upset Medic in his current state. He should not have worried the poor garuda, lest he hurt himself. He had already done enough to harm him, even if it was of the doctor's own demand. His eyes never left his own, however. With every grim line of his face, he could trace memories of his papa's. His stern grimaces, his broad smiles, his impassioned gaze toward a future he  was determined  to make bright, no matter the cost.

“ Papa was counter-revolutionary,” Heavy said, his tone severe. “Fought the  Bolsheviks . Wanted to make Russia great, to make better future for motherland. For his children.”

“You've told me,” Medic replied, confused by this change of topic.

“ Already stood out. Jotun in Russia.  Born of immigrants,” Heavy spoke slowly, picking his words carefully, “not Russian by blood, but forged like steel on anvil of snow and ice. Papa bled Russian. Fell in love with beautiful Russian girl, fathered four children, all Russian, but half-jotun. Was already target,  because we are not human .” He sighed, long and loudly, through his nose.  “At first, was good father. Cared for us, protected us, raised us. Provided. But when  White R evolution called loudest, he followed call. Did not have plans for what if he is caught. Did not have plans for what if we are taken.”

“ Misha...”

“Papa look so far to future, he did not see present. Did not see that him being leader of monsters in counter-revolution, that him being loud and fighting so hard, it make us targets. Bigger targets. Is hard not to notice jotun getting  people  for cause, getting monsters  to join .  White  army have many homes outside motherland, but inside Russia is harder, more secret. Papa did not keep secret enough. It was twenty-nine years ago; they come for us in  the night. They tell us Papa is enemy of  the government, of the people. Tell us we are enemy, because we are his family. They take me, Mama, and sisters to gulag, and Papa is executed. They make big deal of it, to show monsters what happen,  so they can control us. Because Papa care so much about fighting Bolsheviks, he put us all in danger. He got self killed, us put in gulag. What I see Mama go through, what sisters go through there, is too much. I was young man then,  just finish secondary school . I can handle labor and beatings.” The jotun's nostrils flared at the memory,  the air leaving them visibly as a small puff of  vapor in the cold air . “No man will ever hurt Mama or sisters again.”

“You saved them,” Medic agreed, unsure what really to say.

“I fix what Papa break. Still remember screams of guards as I feed them own fingers, tear off ears, slice noses, break little bones slowly one by one so they stay awake and do not pass out from pain. No sound in world has ever filled me with more pride. I break legs of ten men at femurs and lock them in prison cell, then burn building to ground  around them . I burn whole gulag and every  mudak inside it. Prisoners go different ways. I take Mama and sisters into mountains. We hide for long time until we are sure we are safe enough, and I come down to find work and make money for food and clothing for us. I provide for us. I take care of us, and when they are safe enough, I go further, get better jobs, make more money and make them comfortable.  Mama insist I go to school like I had dreamed as young man, when I wanted to be poet. I did, but when not writing papers, am killing men for money. Pay for school and family, and rent tiny room from nice family for smallest price during school. Earn doctorate. I love school, but being doktor of Russian literature does not pay to keep family safe and comfortable. Poetry money is nothing to blood money. I am good at killing men, better at killing cowards. I do this gladly, and make money for family.”  Heavy pulled himself up to  his full  height  and cracked his knuckles. “Is how I get job here. You know much of this.”

Medic perked up a bit at the acknowledgment, a bit lost as the giant seemed to be speaking more  to his own reflection than to  him , though he had been listening. The pain in Heavy's voice was tempered only by the anger that heated it, simmering his words as they poured forth from  the normally taciturn giant .  He turned to look at Medic, who frowned in concern.

“Am sorry, I do not mean to worry you, Doktor. I always tell myself I fix what Papa break. I think about family first, take care of loved ones first, do everything for them first. Misha comes second. Take care of responsibilities first. Papa wanted counter-revolution to make Russia great, to make better future for us, but failed because he forgot about current us. So he make everything worse. Did not take care of responsibilities first.” He crossed to the bed, sitting down beside his lover. A small smile crossed his grim face as the huge dip his bulk put into the mattress forced Medic to tumble into him with a small squawk.

“You do an admirable job of taking care of your family, Misha,” the garuda assured him once he'd righted himself enough to lay against the jotun. “I have seen the mansion you have built them. It is beautiful. Save for the lack of variety in meat to hunt, I would say they live very comfortably, und very save.” He laid a hand atop his lover's, dwarfed by its massive size. He pet at one mighty knuckle.

“You say this, but I am not so sure. Mama, Zhanna, Yana, and Bronislava live in mountains of snow and ice, alone without Misha to defend them from KGB. We are still wanted. I have Miss Pauling keep record, see if they have given up. They have not. So family hides, still. But I am here, not with them.”

“You said yourself; you are here making money to provide for them.”  
  
“ Da,” Heavy sighed, still not entirely convinced. “Spend much time idle here. Eat, sleep, play with team, make sex with you and Scout. Feel like this is time I am wasting.”

Medic's feathers fluffed out at that, and he sat up as best he could, “Wasting? Is that what your time with me is? A waste?”

With wide eyes, Heavy caught Medic before he could reel away, shaking his head. “Nyet! Is not what I mean! I love my Doktor! Love Scout, too. Am so happy with you in arms! That is what is wrong!” He pursed his lips, trying to summon the right words, and Medic waited, patient as he could be in his cooling outrage. “Do not want to be Papa. Do not want to put what I want before responsibilities. I look in mirror, and like this, I look very much like Papa. I see where I am like him, and I do not want to become him. Papa say he tried to build future for us, but in end Papa cared about  _what he wanted_ .  Died for it; nearly killed us for it.” He heaved a heavy breath through his nostrils. “You understand?”

“You feel selfish,” Medic murmured, looking up into his lover's glowing eyes. He reached a hand up and pet at his jaw. “Nothing could be further from the truth.  Misha, nearly everything you do is for your family. Your Papa forgot about you for his cause. You have never once forgotten them. If anything, you have made your family larger.”

“What do you mean?”

Medic climbed up onto his knees, an awkward, difficult motion that elicited more than a few grimaces  thanks to his sore pelvic floor , to bring himself face-to-face with the jotun. He kissed the tip of his hawk-like nose and smiled brightly. “You have me. Und Scout. Und to a lesser extent, the whole team. You have not supplanted your loved ones, nor neglected them, Schatz. You have added to their number. Und you protect und care for the family here with just as much passion as your family abroad. You shield me from harm on the field.  Y ou doted after Scout whe n he was miserable from his rut.  Y ou are always taking care of us. You are more potent a caregiver than you could ever imagine, Schatz, und I am sure if you asked your Mama und sisters, they would say the same.  You are an absolute mother hen. ” He pressed his lips to Heavy's, a chase kiss that found the jotun's frown twisting  back up into a small smile and the barest ghost of a chuckle catching in his throat . “I ch liebe dich , Misha. There is nothing wrong with enjoying yourself, or doing things for yourself either. You have said it yourself: responsibilities first, yourself second. Well, that demands that you still care for yourself, too. So enjoy yourself. Doktor's orders.”

“ Yes, Doktor ,” Heavy smiled a little wider, wrapping his enormous arms carefully around the smaller man. “Thank you.”

“Do not thank me,” the garuda tutted with an affected scowl. “A man as intelligent as you should know better, Dummkopf!”

“Am sorry, Doktor,” the jotun said, trying not to chuckle.

“Besides, you look no more like your father than any offspring. Being the same species changes nothing about you fundamentally.  U nd in the future if you are going to entertain such foolish flights of fancy I'd prefer you time them better so as not to interrupt my convalescence following massive anal und rectal trauma,  na schönen Dank aber auch !”

“Da, da, Doktor!” Heavy laughed, one hand coming down to gently cup Medic's backside. “Will do better!”

“That is right, you will!” Medic huffed, a smile breaking his grumpy act.  “I ch liebe dich.” He wrapped his arms around Heavy's shoulders, leaning into his warmth. “You have built an excellent present, und an even better future, und I  intend to be with you for all of it.”

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” Heavy replied, grateful. He squeezed his lover close in his arms, petting gently at his wings. “Is ass okay?”

“I will be fine, Schatz. Although, it would perhaps be a good idea to get me to the infirmary. I feel as though the medigun will soothe my aches. I also still need to take those measurements. How long was I asleep?”

“Only for an hour.”

“Ah, gut. That means we have at least six hours left. Plenty of time to run the tests I want to, get the samples I need, record all of the data, und perhaps we could schtup at least one more time!” The manic giggle that escaped the garuda had Heavy worried.

“Again? Did you not say you hurt?”

“I did not say that was a bad thing, now did I? That was the most intense experience; how could I not crave more? Why waste hours of a gigantic boyfriend with a gigantic Schwanz? Perhaps next you can take me from behind? Now that I am a bit more used to it, I am sure I would be better able to take it a little more roughly,” Medic grinned luridly, his cock already beginning to fatten and poke Heavy in the chest. “Perhaps the measurements can wait until we've had at least one more go, ja?”

The jotun shook his head and scooped his lover into his arms. Their bed was a mess, and so was he, dried lube and come on his ass and thighs, utterly bedraggled and excited. He carefully opened the door and negotiated his way through it into the hallway, bound for the infirmary.

After all, taking care of people was in Heavy's nature, and right now, Medic definitely needed something taken care of.


End file.
